When the members of the Texas Institute of Letters gather, it’s always a remarkable collection of people. I doubt they’ve ever gathered amid a collection as remarkable as the one tonight.

Tomorrow, the venerable institution’s annual awards will be given; you’ll be able to find a list of winners right here. Tonight, their reception was held at the private library of businessman Harlan Crow.

I was aware of Mr. Crow’s interesting taste in statuary — he owns a collection of fallen communist leaders that he has arranged along an tree-shaded walkway. It’s known as the “Garden of Evil.” (A massive head of Winston Churchill stands in a sunny space near the garden — “On the high ground,” Mr. Crow noted to me.)

And I was prepared to see some interesting historic bric-a-brac befitting a zillionaire. Dallas historian Darwin Payne wrote in the TIL newsletter that the library contains artifacts such as Eisenhower’s five-star helmet, a silver tankard created by Paul Revere, the deed to George Washington’s Mount Vernon estate and paintings by Gilbert Stuart, John Singleton Copley, Rembrandt Peale and more.

But that was just the beginning.

The library itself, built near the Crow home four years ago, is a perfect realization of a rich man’s library: two-story wooden columns. Alcoves and shelves filled with custom-bound materials, statuary and historical materials. I would not have been surprised to see Bruce Wayne walk in, clutching a cocktail in one hand, deftly closing the secret entrance to the Batcave with his other.

I saw no comic books, actually. Nor did I see the Stradivarius — it was on loan for the evening. But librarian Sam Fore did show me a letter – the letter — Harry Truman wrote to Washington Post critic Paul Hume, who had disdained daughter Margaret’s singing. The president wrote, “Some day I hope to meet you. When that happens you’ll need a new nose, a lot of beefsteak for black eyes, and perhaps a supporter below!”

That letter is worth an entire chapter in a Truman biography.

James Donovan (pictured) pulled a volume of correspondence from George Armstrong Custer off another shelf. Mr. Donovan did some of his research for ”A Terrible Glory” in this library. In the letter he showed me, the young soldier is telling a young woman that he hopes the thing they talked about doing the next time they met is something they will still get to do.

And we’re not even to the “rare books” shelf yet.

The “rare” books I saw included first editions by Benjamin Franklin and Isaac Newton. I missed the copy of the first U.S. Census, signed by Thomas Jefferson, and Vasco de Gama’s original report on the New World.

I noted the autographed “Mein Kampf,” and found Hitler’s placesettings and linens in the cabinet upstairs — discretely kept in a closed cabinet, so the swastikas are not on display.

There was also a handwritten letter of thanks from Justice Clarence Thomas (displayed next to the official Senate roll call card showing his confirmation) and a miniature model of the “Little Boy” atomic bomb, signed by the pilot of the Enola Gay, Col. Paul W. Tibbets.

“I’m a conservative,” Mr. Crow told me, early in the evening. That may be an understatement.

If you prefer fiction to history or biography, this would not be your dream library. I did note a complete collection of Mark Twain’s works, but that was all I saw. Of course, I was too busy studying the cannonball embedded in the tree removed from Gettysburg, and the two life masks of Abraham Lincoln, to take a full inventory. [UPDATE 4/21: A reliable source tells me he witnessed some Dickens volumes as well -- and one of Dickens' own dining room chairs.]

Still, it’s a remarkable collection, which the delighted TIL crowed pored over for their entire time. Mr. Fore told me that the collection, which Mr. Crow started seriously working on about 10 years ago, is being built with an eye toward opening it to the public after Mr. Crow and his wife have died.

I can only imagine what he will have amassed by then.

For all the treasures, though, the company of intelligent, engaging people is always just as valuable as whatever relics might be nearby. So I also enjoyed a few priceless moments with journalist and JFK assassination witness Hugh Aynesworth as he described his firsthand encounters with Jack Ruby. And hearing Bryce Milligan of San Antonio’s Wings Press describe the pleasure he gets (and money he loses) making custom-bound books.

And then there are remarks from the likes of Mary Specht, current holder of a Dobie Paisano Writing Fellowship, which allows her to spend six months writing — alone, on a 254-acre spread west of Austin, where wildlife plays and Barton Creek flows. It’s the exact opposite of the Mr. Crow’s estate.

“I think I like my life there better,” she said.

She paused for a moment.

“But he does have his own librarian. How cool would that be?”
(Photos by Michael Merschel)

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